


Take Him By The Hand

by a_q



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Clothing, Dom!Charles and Sub!Erik, Dom/sub, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Nail Polish, Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles waits for Erik to tell him what he wants. </p>
<p>(dom!Charles/sub!Erik)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Him By The Hand

**Author's Note:**

> A quick one-shot, combining kink meme idea of Erik getting his nails painted (though this piece doesn't fill that request) and ideas about the nature of submission presented in Kink Bingo ramp-up essay, where the author connected submission with being taken care of, being cherished and pampered. 
> 
> I wanted to play with that thought a bit, so this little fic.

Charles turned the page, ignoring Erik who tapped his fingers against the armrests. It was a nervous habit. Charles read on, Lizzie Bennett about to get the dismissive comment from Mr. Darcy. 

"But you are a telepath," Erik said. He had stopped tapping. 

Charles looked up from the page. He picked the knees of his black wool trousers. Charles had dressed him up, the trousers and white shirt tailored to fit. Charles complimented himself about his choice. Erik was so handsome that it was almost painful to look at him. 

"Yes, I think we've established that several times already. What about it?"

"Couldn't you read my mind for what I want? Please?"

"I could," Charles said. "But I won't."

"Why not?"

"First of all, you asked me not to read your mind, which I agreed to," he said, considering how to explain the rest so it would make sense to him. "Second, when you verbalize a desire to me, it shows a level of trust between us, that you are aware of what you want, and you feel comfortable telling me about it. If I pick the desire from your head, you don't have a chance to reflect it, what it is, why you want it. You have to do the heavy lifting here. I can't do it for you."

Erik didn't look convinced, but Charles was sure he was right about this. It was for Erik's own benefit. Charles understood how hard it was for him to ask for things he perceived as weak and frivolous needs in himself. Charles didn't see it like that. To him Erik's every desire was unique and invaluable. Charles had no need to classify them, he simply wanted to fulfill them. But first, he wanted to hear Erik acknowledge them.

"There's no rush, you can take your time. Sleep on it, if you like," Charles offered. 

"No, I can do it," Erik said, returning to tap the chair. 

"Of course you can, that's my point," Charles said and turned back to the book. He managed ten pages before Erik stopped tapping again. Charles looked up.

“I like these clothes you chose,” he said. 

“I'm glad. You look handsome,” Charles said, turning the cover flap to hold the place before closing the book. He placed the book on the side table and leaned on his hand, watching him. Erik looked back for a moment, before his eyes drifted on his hand and then he turned to stare his own hands. Charles couldn't resist, he wiggled his fingers a bit to see what Erik would do. His eyes snapped right back to him. Charles waited him to say it, but instead he played with his hands, resting on his knees, then to the armrests, tapping, back on his lap again. He didn't know what to do with them. 

“And the bathing, that was good.”

“Happy to hear,” Charles said. The neutral answer frustrated Erik. He stared him intently and screamed at him inside his mind, but Charles didn't budge. Erik was so close, he could do it. Charles waited and let him shout. It relieved his uneasiness. 

When it became clear that this strategy wouldn't get him anywhere, he stopped and closed his eyes. Charles tried not to feel disappointed about the setback, and reached for his book again. Erik took a deep breath, like he was about to dive in cold water.

“I want you to paint my nails, the same color as yours,” he said in one quick exhale, the words tumbling against each other. He kept his eyes closed and slumped down on the chair, like an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

Charles wanted to jump up and cheer and kiss him until Erik wouldn't know up from down. It felt amazing, a real breakthrough. He controlled himself and calmly put the book away, getting up. 

“My pleasure,” he said and went to fetch the bottle of nail polish from the writing desk. He picked the newspaper and a chair, and carried all next to the armchair. Erik opened his eyes to look what he did. He seemed bewildered, so Charles didn't speak, but allowed him the space to feel whatever he needed to feel. 

Charles placed the chair as close as he could and sat down, his knee pressing against Erik's thigh. He folded the newspaper to cover the armrest and then held his hand open. Erik hesitated, but placed his hand in his. Charles stroked the back of his hand, brushed his thumbs toward the wrist and then back. He was tanned, the skin slightly coarse. Charles turned his hand around and pressed his thumbs in his palm, working toward the wrist again. His palm was full of lines, several clear and deep ones. Charles wondered if he had a book about palmistry anywhere. 

Erik relaxed as Charles massaged his hand, but when he let go and placed his hand on the paper, he tensed again. Charles took the bottle of nail polish, turning it up and down to mix the paint. He kept a close eye on Erik's reaction. His hand shook, making a small rattling sound against the paper. 

“Everything alright?” Charles asked, turning the cap on the bottle and swirling the brush to get rid of the excess paint. It was very bright red, maybe too much for Erik. 

“I'm fine,” he said, but his hand still shivered. Charles placed the bottle on the side table and slid his hand under his, squeezing his fingers gently. Charles lifted his pinkie and swiped the brush over the nail, leaving a red stripe behind. His nails were neat, cut close. Charles painted the nail carefully, not to go over and stain his skin. 

“Why do you keep that in your writing desk?” Erik asked when Charles looked up, dipping the brush back to the bottle for the second coat.

“I like to paint my nails when I'm on the phone,” Charles said. “Phone conversations are tedious, I can't get a sense of people through the phone. And calls take a long time if I have to talk with the lawyers, or bankers.”

Erik laughed, his hand shaking and Charles waited, brush ready. When his hand didn't shake in his hold, he swiped the second coat, quicker now that he had idea of the shape of his nail. He lifted his hand, blowing steadily over the wet paint. Erik quieted down, watching him. Charles picked up his thought and smiled, placing his hand back to the paper and dipping the brush in the paint. 

“You've been so good today, I think you deserve a treat,” Charles said and turned his ring finger to coat the nail with one swipe. “What would you like?”

“Could you tie me up? Please?”

Charles smiled and turned the brush around to get more paint to even out the stripes. 

“Certainly,” he said, lifting his hand again to blow on the paint. It still looked a bit uneven. “Clothed or naked?” 

Erik stilled, the choice once again stopping him on his tracks. “Can't you decide?”

“I can,” Charles said and leaned to swirl the brush on the bottle. 

“But you won't,” Erik said and sighed, his hand moving again. Charles glanced at him and frowned, and he stilled.

“If I decide, then it won't be your treat, now would it?” Charles noted. “You can take your time. There's eight fingers left to paint.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Take Him By the Hand (The Understanding Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2093520) by [afrocurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl)
  * [Pick Up the Pieces and Go Home (the Rulers Make Bad Lovers Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2118126) by [Red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red/pseuds/Red)




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